


The Principles of Self Defense

by tenser



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Bisexual Izaya, Bullying, Crossdressing, F/M, Fluid Sexuality, Genderfluid, Homophobia, Queer Themes, The Mikage Incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27509845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenser/pseuds/tenser
Summary: The Mikage Incident.Mikage had to wonder if she really was a lesbian. She liked sports and physical activities and didn’t have the ability to gossip and emote like the other girls. But the crucial part of liking girls was liking girls. She tried to imagine the kind of girl she’d like.It turned out the kind of girl she liked was Izaya.
Relationships: Orihara Izaya/Sharaku Mikage
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	The Principles of Self Defense

The short skirt of Raijin High’s uniform brushed against Mikage’s thighs in a place unaccustomed to such touch.

All day she’d been smoothing the skirt down, shocked every time at how little there was and horrified at how quickly what was there bounced back to expose her. Yet she didn’t plan to change what she was wearing the next day. In fact, she couldn’t. All that was waiting for her at home were two extra girls’ uniforms hanging in the closet.

“No boys uniform?” her father had asked when she ordered her high school uniforms from Raijin’s catalog, disappointment louder than surprise in his voice. “You wore boys uniforms in middle school.”

“Girls,” she had confirmed, standing firm as her father looked at the order form with Raijin’s blue skirt and blazer circled.

“Mikage,” her father had said sternly. “Fine, but you’re wearing gym shorts underneath.”

She had hesitated but nodded. The important thing was getting the girls uniform. She could deal with getting rid of the gym shorts later, and maybe even grow out her hair.

Now, several months into the school term, Mikage had finally risked wearing nothing but panties underneath the skirt. No one had commented or noticed, which was a relief as much as a disappointment, but still, it was the most vulnerable she’d felt yet. She felt the skirt riding up a bit as she leaned down to collect her shoes from the shoe locker.

“Nice change from the gym shorts.”

Mikage tilted her head towards the bright voice.

A boy with short black hair waggled his fingers at her in a wave before he quickly turning to laugh with the gaggle of girls surrounding him. He was already looking away by the time a hot flush colored Mikage’s face.

Of all people, Izaya Orihara was the only one to comment.

Izaya, the incessant flirt and troublemaker of Raijin. A handsome boy who always had a scheme or a girl, or both. He was always picking explosive fights with an angry blond kid, but never got in trouble for it. There were even rumors that he dealt with the yakuza. For these and other “accomplishments,” his reputation was quite well known around school.

Someone like him had no reason to comment. Honestly, Mikage didn’t recall him even looking at her before.

She’d seen _him,_ of course. He was arrestingly beautiful. He was slim and graceful and dressed in idiosyncratic black. On top of that, he was social and got around. It was more impossible to not notice him.

So… Even a popular boy like Izaya noticed when a girl’s skirt was short. That didn’t do much to improve her opinion on men.

Yet the heat of his brief gaze warmed her walk all the way to the dojo.

**

She began to take constant note of Izaya’s presence. The first principle of self-defense, after all, was awareness.

He was a mop of messy black hair surrounded by silky-headed girls. A jingling chain in the hallways during the middle of class. A waving hand disappearing around the school gates.

Early one morning she saw him leaning against a post, reading a book, on school grounds. He seemed engrossed in the book, not noticing her as she approached. She had to pass by him to get into the school building’s entrance. Her instincts said to turn and head for the gym entrance instead, bypassing the situation, but she felt like asserting herself.

Red-brown eyes smoothly lifted from the page to stare directly at her the moment she entered his sphere of influence. Her eyes were too slow to look away from his perfectly timed gaze. A mirthful smile spread on his face, and the expression held even as another girl bounced over to talk to him. Then he was smiling at the other girl, as if nothing at all had transpired between he and Mikage.

A drop of cold sweat tricked down her neck as she finally reached the refuge of the shoe lockers. 

**

School was not a particularly interesting place.

Mikage didn’t really have friends, and since she didn’t care too much about the lessons, she dozed and daydreamed in class frequently. Long ago it had been made clear to her that a student of her average intelligence wasn’t going on to college. Her father and brothers might have believed differently, but Mikage knew she’d end up working at the dojo just like them.

Plus, since Izaya wasn’t in her class, she could drop her defenses and rest for a bit.

Her senses heightened again when the class shuffled to the locker rooms to change for gym glass, but it was pointless to be on Izaya Alert that day, as he wasn’t milling about in the halls as usual. But her hackles didn’t go down in the locker room. No matter how she went about her business, the other girls harassed her.

“Ew, Mikage is looking at me!” shrieked a girl, squirming to hide her completely uninteresting and underdeveloped breasts by pressing them against another girl.

“Look at that sports bra, she’s such a dyke,” smirked another girl, this one apparently eager to slander on her offended friend’s behalf.

“Where’s your boy shorts today?” taunted another girl. “You’re sick.”

Mikage knew better than to rise to their bait as she calmly changed into her gym uniform. Taunts like these had been following her for years.

Suddenly, a pair of panties landed on her head, accompanied by twittering laughter. She grabbed the panties, intending to place them on the bench for someone to reclaim.

“Gonna smell them, you lesbian?” said of of the bullies. Then the girl rose on tiptoes and called, “Teacher! Mikage’s stealing underwear!” 

“I’m not,” she said, finally facing her tormentors.

“C’mon, give her what she wants,” another girl encouraged. Suddenly a rain of underwear was being lobbied at Mikage. The shame that had been held back by her natural stoicism suddenly flared.

“Just die already,” someone said.

In a flash, MIkage was on the girl, shoving her against the wall and fisting the girl’s shirt so hard that it audibly ripped. But that hardly registered. She delivered a well-placed blow to the girl’s midsection.

It was right then that the teacher showed up to cries of sexual assault.

***

“This kind of conduct is completely unacceptable,” the vice-principal frowned over his folded hands.

Mikage sat alone in the vice-principal’s office, the other girls having given their damning testimony already. Her posture was sharp and measured, as befitting someone raised in martial arts.

“Your father will be notified of your actions. You will also receive two weeks of suspension.”

“No,” Mikage said, distraught. “Please don’t tell my father.” If he were to learn of her failure as a martial artist in attacking a defenseless person, she would be in remedial training at the dojo for months. He might not even look at her as a potential teacher at the dojo. And without that, she had nothing.

“Don’t tell my father I was in a fight,” Mikage said. 

“Fight?” the vice-principal said quizzically. “It’s your sexual harassment of the other girls that we are discussing.”

“You’re not going to tell him I was in a fight?” Mikage asked.

“The other students reported that you were making advances on them, and then you sexually assaulted a girl. Is that not correct?” the vice-principal asked.

“That’s what happened,” Mikage confirmed overly quickly, relieved that her fight would be completely concealed.

She finally looked up. Behind the vice-principal’s bland and ominous face, the window illuminated a scuffle going on. It was another knock-down drag-out fight between Izaya and the blond kid. No one was intervening there. No teacher was being called.

_What a double standard,_ Mikage thought sourly.

“If you’re not contesting what the girls said, then I’ll call your father and send you home to begin your two weeks of suspension,” the vice principal said.

“Okay,” she said.

Little did she know she had paid too high a price to cover up a small mistake.

***

It was hot, and it would have been nice to have a cold drink.

During her two-week suspension, she’d been helping out at the dojo during the day. It turned out there were actually plenty of things to do, like keep the equipment in order, assist with small children and act as an assistant instructor.

She and her father had cleared the air about her suspension quickly.

“Are you a lesbian?” he asked point blank.

“No,” she replied.

“Good, I didn’t think so,” her father said, sighing and turning away. “It would be a problem for teaching the women’s classes if you were. Help out while you’re here.”

That was that.

Or not.

Mikage wasn’t so busy helping out that she didn’t have time to wonder if she really was a lesbian. It wasn’t as if the constant accusations hadn’t made her wonder before, but she’d never come to a conclusion. As she laid on her bedroom floor trying to cool off from the oppressive heat, her mind wandered.

She was a tomboy, at least. She liked sports and physical activities and didn’t have the ability to gossip and emote like the other girls. But the crucial part of liking girls was liking girls, and she hadn’t experienced that. She tried to imagine the kind of girl she’d like. Would her ideal woman be slim and pretty? Fun and smiling? Tough and athletic like herself? She kept picturing women from advertisements in magazines and on trains. Did she want those girls, or want to be them? She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel.

Huffing, she stood up. A walk to the convenience store for a drink would cool both her head and her throat.

But nothing had cleared by the time she reached the convenience store and so she kept walking. Every woman who passed her by caught her eye. So many kinds of women. Mothers, harried or generous or gentle. Little girls, cheerful or crying. Young ladies who were perhaps young wives or part-timers. There were no girls her age, of course—those were all in school.

A tall, slim girl with long black hair arrested her attention. The girl was wearing a slinky short black dress, exposing long shapely legs. Mikage couldn’t see her face but could tell just by the luster of her hair and the assuredness of her gait that the girl was pretty. She had leagues on Mikage’s faltering attempts at femininity.

Without thinking, she followed the girl, even as they got close to the station and the number of people increased. Suddenly a couple of men appeared next to the girl.

Mikage’s senses surged. These men did not have good intentions. Sure enough, though the woman was flirtatiously turning down their advances, they began pulling on her arms, trying to get her to go into some establishment.

Without thinking, Mikage barged forward. With a jab to the chin, she took out the first assailant. A sound kick downed the other man.

Then it was just the woman and Mikage herself standing in the street.

“Nice kick—” began a familiar voice.

When the two women’s eyes met, recognition blossomed between them.

For inexplicable reasons, Izaya in drag was the girl who Mikage had just rescued.

What Mikage did next surprised her. She grabbed Izaya’s arm and started running. Although she possessed the capabilities to keep the men down and call the police, she just ran.

“In there!” Izaya shouted, and Mikage noted that his voice was actually fairly high, higher than she had first thought. At least he was doing something to disguise it. He pointed towards one of the many karaoke joints close to the station.

Izaya managed the rest of the talking one they were in, ordering a room for two, receiving the number and then leading them up the elevators to it. Mikage followed his lead in confused shock. Once the door closed behind them and Izaya flumped down on the karaoke bench, Mikage spoke.

“Are you Izaya Orihara?” Mikage asked.

“Does that mean you would have rescued and run off with a strange girl?” Izaya said in lieu of a straight answer. “Perhaps you really are a lesbian like the rumors say.”

“What about you?” Mikage countered, slightly perturbed.

“Ah, I should have guessed your first question wouldn’t be about where I got this fabulous dress. Your loss. I should have instead expected the most mundane of questions, namely, why am I dressed in clothing atypical to the gender you have seen me as and come to associate me with? The answer is quite long, but I have a feeling that you, like Shizu-chan, aren’t the patient type and prefer a direct answer. And so, my answer is this. I dress like this because I feel like it.”

“That was already too long,” Mikage said.

“Ha ha, I was correct about your personality. And I hardly even know you, Mikage, but I think I will come to know you quickly. I can see your next question. You want to know who those men were. Well, I can tell you, that was an honest incident of sexual harassment.”

Mikage’s eyes caught a trembling in Izaya’s hands. It occurred to her for the first time that he might be more human than she had thought to admit.

“To which I owe you my thanks for saving me,” Izaya said. “And on that note, I’d like to stay here a bit before trying my luck on the street again.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Mikage said.

Izaya cocked his head. “It would be lonely to sing by myself.”

“You don’t have to sing,” Mikage pointed out.

“What would be the fun in that?” Izaya smirked. “Besides I’ve already paid for the room and you have your drink. It’d be a waste not to enjoy it.” Mikage was slowly growing accustomed to seeing the familiar Izaya under the false eyelashes and layers of makeup, but that sense of acute danger that she felt around Izaya was dampened. In retrospect, it should have been at its highest.

**

Mikage stared at her phone in the middle of class.

**Kanra: See you at 9pm~ ^o^**

Mikage frowned. Of course Izaya had waited until she was back in school following her suspension to start pestering her about hanging out. And he never wanted to hang out at a reasonable hour, like say, directly after school, when normal kids went to the arcade or a café. Not Izaya. He only seemed to want to hang out at night.

As she stared vacantly at the textbook she was not remotely following along with, she tried to come up with an excuse to tell her father. He was already familiar with Mikage hanging out with “a female friend from school.” Izaya had told her to use the name “Kanra” for his female persona, but she’d still kept it vague.

“Again?” her father asked, as Mikage stood at the door at 8:45pm. “This friend of yours likes to hang out at night.”

“Can I go?” Mikage asked with all the bluntness of a punch, sidestepping any implications.

“Dojo cleaning is at 6 am,” her father said, evidently trusting her. “Don’t stay out too late.”

Mikage walked through the darkening twilight to the convenience store, sweating lightly in the high heat and humidity of late summer. Even the lightweight girlish clothes—a magenta blouse and silly, fluttery skirt—felt like too much clothing. Shortly her veins grew busier pumping blood when she saw a slim figure in the bright glow of a lit-up convenience store’s large glass windows. It was Izaya, dressed in slinky black as always, face illuminated by the glow of his small mobile phone screen.

The phone flipped shut and was deposited into a cute black purse when Mikage strode up. Izaya flashed a sweet smile. He said, “I love the skirt, and magenta really suits you, but they’ll never let you into the bar without makeup, Mikage-chan.”

Mikage bit her lip. “I do have makeup on.” She’d bought it from this exact convenience store a week ago when Izaya first suggested going out to this particular place.

“Not enough,” Izaya said. “Come on, let’s see what we can do, hmm?”

Just like that, Mikage was confidently pulled by Izaya’s hand down the street and into the train station’s women’s restroom. While other, normal, women—some returning from a long day at the office, some headed out for a late dinner, others dressed up for a more elaborate night out such as themselves—did their business, Izaya shamelessly splayed his skinny butt and shapely legs over the counter in front of the mirror.

Inside his little black purse was a surprising array of beauty products, basically none of which Mikage could identify other than lipstick. Izaya’s long-fingered hand, tipped with glittering fake nails, rifled through the purse, pulling out various implements of femininity.

“Close your eyes,” he said, a bit too close and husky to her ear. She was glad to be wearing a bra with padding instead of her sports bra, because her nipples were certainly interested in how close Izaya’s face was to her own.

Firm touches of a sponge traveled over her face, coating her skin in what she assumed was foundation. Just because she couldn’t recognize the packaging didn’t mean she was completely ignorant about the kind of stuff women put on their faces. More dabbing and unidentifiable touches followed. Then a soft brush, tickling, swept over her face, and goosebumps traveled down her back.

“Keep them closed,” Izaya said, with a hint of amusement.

Mikage quieted her internal voice of protest. Izaya hadn’t said she couldn’t speak, but she felt completely frozen under his touch anyway.

His fingers pressed against her throat and hair, steadying her face, as he applied eyeliner. A growing sense of nervousness bubbled up from her gut as he dabbed on eyeshadow and touched up the edges of her eyes.

The fingers on her throat shifted to holding her chin in place. Soft strokes at her bottom lip sent a completely unmistakable tingle of arousal into her groin. She counted each touch, trying to ground herself from the onslaught of the erotic feeling. The lipstick tube moved to her upper lip, and a hint of some strange adult chalky yet smooth flavor entered her mouth.

When Izaya’s fingers pulled away and he said “all done,” opening her eyes felt very much like emerging from a dream.

Or into one, she thought, completely shocked by her reflection in the mirror.

This isn’t me, was Mikage’s very first thought. A young woman, wearing too much makeup for her age, with eyes trimmed in kohl and bearing magenta lips stared back. This girl was hot, Mikage could tell—alluring, feminine and most disconcerting, fuckable.

“Now you look like you’re trying to get laid,” Izaya purred, as if this had been his goal all along.

Her makeup looked remarkably similar to Izaya’s, she realized, noticing him in the mirror as he draped over her shoulder. It occurred to her that he’d smothered her natural feminine charms to keep them from overshadowing his constructed ones. Either for pride or for the sake of passing, she couldn’t decide. There was nothing she felt comfortable saying about it either way.

Once the makeup products were sealed up in Izaya’s purse and the two young ladies were back on the street, Mikage quickly noticed how much attention they attracted. Men blatantly stared, other women gave them cold glances. This wasn’t the dream she had for being a girl. But as uncomfortable as Mikage felt, Izaya was eating up the attention.

They walked into a bar, despite clearly looking, in Mikage’s opinion, underage. Izaya sauntered up to the bartender and ordered weak mixed drinks.

At least the atmosphere in the bar was less overtly hostile. Mikage relaxed as she sipped the orange fruity thing Izaya had gotten her. The women patrons seemed content to ignore them, and although she could feel the hungry gaze of several men, most were content to speak with whatever companion they’d come with.

“This isn’t a gay bar,” Mikage observed.

“Of course not,” Izaya hummed back. “Did you think I was gay?”

“Are you straight?” Mikage asked. She honestly was a bit surprised.

“Depends on what gender I am,” Izaya winked and smiled. Mikage decided to drop the confusing subject.

“So what are we doing here?” Mikage asked. “If you’re not trying to pick up gay gays?”

“Really, you have such a narrow focus,” Izaya sighed. “I just told you, I’m not interested in gay men at the moment. And I thought I made it clear that I’m not dressing this way in order to live out a gender identity or live a fetish. It’s simply useful to appear as one needs to in order to accomplish certain goals. Oh, I do enjoy it, though. I wish there were pantyhose with this outfit. It would make rubbing my shaved thighs together that much more exquisite.”

Mikage sipped her drink. Izaya was too keyed up for her at the moment.

He noticed her body language and revised his answer, “I’m here to be noticed.”

“By who—“ Mikage started but was interrupted by a young man who asked if he could buy them drinks.

As Izaya chatted up the young man, and then another, she realized the answer was “anyone.” Izaya just wanted the attention of anyone who would give it, and becoming a young, pretty woman was simply the fastest way to achieve that.

It was a bit disappointing, really. She somehow expected more from him.

Time skipped along in the otherworldly dimness of the bar and soon it was 11:07 pm, and Mikage had already stayed 7 minutes past what she had decided was her ultimate limit.

“I’m leaving,” she declared, sliding off the bar stool. Izaya’s admirers, some who had even clustered around her either in politeness or in genuine interest, parted for her.

“Aww,” Izaya whined. “Wait for me!” He slid off his chair with a bit less grace, and was caught by one of the young gentleman. Mikage waited for the small flirtation to end, then led Izaya out of the bar.

“I’m surprised you left,” Mikage admitted as they walked away.

“A girl never gives it all away on the first night,” Izaya laughed. His cheeks were flushed with exhilaration that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

“So we’re going back?” Mikage asked.

“Yes, yes I think so,” suddenly Izaya’s face took on a more serious tone. “I think the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?” Mikage asked.

“That I am the prettiest girl in all of Ikebukuro!” Izaya suddenly shouted. He laughed and skipped ahead.

Mikage should have known better than to get a direct answer out of him.

**

“No.”

“I’m going anyway,” Mikage said.

“Not until you introduce this friend of yours to me,” Mikage’s father said. “I don’t think a high school girl needs to be going out at night so much. Your friend is a bad influence on you.”

“I already promised I’d go,” Mikage countered.

“Then by god, you will let me talk to this girl or you will not leave this house. What am I going to do with you, Mikage?” he father raised his voice in exasperation.

He held his hand out expectantly for her phone.

Mikage’s heart pounded. As convincing as Izaya was in person, his voice performance still left something to be desired. And without the physical cues, the masculinity of his voice was likely to stand out. She had kept her worst fear, her father meeting Izaya, from happening for a long time. Now she could only trust in Izaya’s performance to keep them out of trouble. 

She dialed the number anyway.

“Yes, Mikage?” Izaya chirped. “We should be meeting in a few minutes, what is it?”

“My dad wants to speak with you,” she said.

“How lovely,” Izaya said.

Mikage handed the phone over.

The conversation was short, but every single second passed like an eternity. She strained her ears for the sound of Izaya’s voice over the tinny speaker. Her father’s questions were rather benign and she couldn’t read anything into his tone or body language. After a tense eon, her father hung up the phone.

“Your friend sounds like a dyke,” he said.

“She’s not gay,” Mikage said, and given what Izaya had told her, she wasn’t lying any more than she was telling the truth.

“Are you going out to…have a relationship with this girl?” Her father said. “Because if you are, we will need to seriously examine your going out privileges. That is not how I raised you.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Mikage yelled and stormed out.

Izaya stood waiting in the glow of the convenience store, dressed in pretty black designer clothes and checking his phone like always. Mikage knew it would be impossible to hide her death-like aura, so she didn’t even try. She wore her anger like the wings of a bird, and let it carry her right up to Izaya. Still gripped with righteous passion, she grabbed his arm.

“What is this now?” Izaya said. “Your father sounds like a perfectly respectable man, by the way. I can’t imagine he said anything negative about me to merit this response. Perhaps he liked me too much, if you get my meaning?”

“Come on,” Mikage said, leading them as a brisk pace towards the station. For his part, Izaya complied—more out of curiosity than obedience, Mikage observed. Their heels—both short and sensible, hers for comfort and his to disguise his height—clacked painfully loud into the sleepy Wednesday night. The clacking came to an abrupt stop at a door before they reached the station.

Izaya’s eyes widened in surprise.

Mikage took a breath, then opened the large glass door to the love hotel.

At the desk, she took out a wad of bills. It was Izaya’s money, but he’d insisted she keep some on her so that she could buy drinks or train fare or whatever stupid thing she was going to have to do because she was out with him. Looking back over the past month or two, Mikage could only think of all the stupid things she’d done alongside Izaya, as his friend and compatriot. That ended tonight.

Tonight she was getting what she wanted—without the layers of Izaya’s bullshit.

“Mmm, whatever could you be thinking?” Izaya said during the elevator ride. “Is this the last night your father will let you out, so you intend to make it worth it? It disrupts my plans, but I do admire those who are unpredictable…”

“Just shut up,” Mikage said.

“But how will I moan for you, then?” Izaya winked and skipped off the elevator. “Room 420 is it? Hahaha. Well, let’s go do whatever your animal instincts are telling you to do. And what is that you want to do, Mikage-chan?”

Her nervousness had grown, reaching the electric fever pitch it usually did before a sparring match. As an opponent, Izaya was difficult, but she was more than a little talented herself so long as she stuck to her strengths.

Once inside the room, she ripped the wig from Izaya’s head and forcefully pulled at his blouse until it gave. The skirt came off with little effort, and though Izaya belatedly attempted to cover himself, she was quicker at bending him over the couch and unclasping his bra. From that position, she forcibly lifted him out of his shoes. Leaving the underwear be for the moment, she dragged him in a headlock into the bathroom and shoved his head into the sink. On full blast, the water washed away the thick makeup. She tried to ignore Izaya’s cries of protest. Back to the bedroom they went and with makeup wipes from his bag, she wiped away the dark flood of mascara and what bits of other caked makeup that remained.

Izaya sat trembling and naked on the bed as she tossed the wipes to the floor and towered over him.

“Do you love me, Mikage?” he tilted his head and finally smirked.

As if he didn’t damn well know she did. This eternal smugness was what she hated about him.

“I see you’ve left my panties on,” Izaya continued. “What a shame. It’ll be hard to force yourself on me if my cock’s still trapped inside. Or do you want to finger me instead? Peg me? I’m not exactly thrilled about either proposition, but this indecision is killing me.”

Goaded, Mikage placed a hand tentatively on his hipbone. She stared at the sight of her fingers trailing lower, and then lower still. When the area that should have bulged with his cock felt flat and smooth, she realized he’d tucked. Her fingers searched lower, finding the length of Izaya’s cock, soft and rounded like a slightly deflated sausage.

“Does it feel like a cunt?” Izaya said, apparently not aroused by her touches. “Warm and soft and right between my legs where it should be.”

“I’m not gay,” Mikage repeated for what must have been the thousandth time.

“You know,” Izaya said lazily, spreading his legs a little wider, “If you wanted to turn me on, you should have pressed me up against the door like you wanted to. I easily would’ve popped a boner. I’m into strong people like you.”

He laid back and dragged a hand aimlessly over his bare chest, pausing to rub each of his nipples.

“And if you’re into skinny, manipulative femmes, you really would be hard-pressed to find better than me,” Izaya murmured.

Izaya massaged his flat breasts and wound his hands up his porcelain neck.

“Well? Are you going to have your way with me?” Izaya asked. His sinful fingers pressed seductively against the mound under her skirt.

“Go fuck yourself,” Mikage said, turning and leaving the room without a backward glance.

**

Mikage still saw Izaya at school, of course.

But without any classes together and with their entire friendship having been a secret, no one could tell the difference. They were back to being complete strangers.

Her father grounded her after she returned that night. Her brothers were told about everything, so that they could police her from going out with her friend. Her father felt gratified at the punishment, unaware that it was completely unnecessary. Mikage had zero intention of going out with Izaya again.

With new awareness that there was more to life out there than the dojo, Mikage actually applied herself to her studies. She successfully made a friend or two. Life improved without Izaya in it, though she was still honestly grateful for the boost he’d given her in breaking out of her shell. She even made it through the winter with the girls’ uniform instead of breaking down for the more comfortable and safer boys’ uniform.

Her going-out privileges were eventually restored, and in the spring she found herself going out to meet a friend in a café in the evening. Searching for her friend, she suddenly noticed Izaya, dressed in his school uniform, sitting in said café. He closed his phone and vigorously waved at her. He was being so obnoxious about it that she went and sat at his table before he could cause a larger commotion.

“What do you want?” she glared.

“Before you say you’re here to meet a friend, don’t worry,” Izaya said. He showed her a chat log on his phone. “She’s not coming. I’m the one who texted you.”

“What?” Mikage opened her phone. The message clearly came from her friend.

“Don’t worry your muscle-bound head too much about the how,” Izaya said with an ugly smile.

“You’re trash,” Mikage said.

“Ouch,” Izaya smirked. “This from the girl who once felt so passionately about me that she raped me.”

“I didn’t do that,” Mikage said, heart a little unsure if she believed herself.

“It’s not a matter of belief,” Izaya said. “It’s fact. Did you know that there’s a security camera that just happens to be outside that love hotel directed towards the windows? It’s lucky that I thought of that before the six months expired and they deleted the old footage.”

Mikage’s heart suddenly dropped. She knew exactly what Izaya was implying.

“What do I have to do to keep you from spreading the video around?”

“I’ve already sent the video on a disk to your father. He should be watching it about now,” Izaya said, a cruel smirk twisting his mouth. “It’s a shame the video quality isn’t any better, he’ll have no idea that I’m not a real woman. But your intentions in it are very clear. Not porn quality, but it’s enough to tell what kind of steamy action is going on.”

Mikage shot up, her chair clattering to the floor.

All the way home, her chest burning with exertion and with terror, she just thought about how to get to the video before her father saw it. She imagined ripping the disk from his hands, breaking it over her knee into a million unintelligible pieces. She imagined her school life with her precious friends continuing. She imagined how good her life would be if she just got to that video in time.

The house was dark.

She ran from room to room, saving the most damning for last. In the final room, a light shone from the computer room. She ran in, but the CD ROM was already in the middle of a sequence she knew very well. Her father sat in the computer chair.

She would never forget the look of disappointment etched into his eyes when he looked at her.

“It’s not what it—” Mikage started.

“The principal of your school sent this to me.” Her father said flatly. “Mikage, you’re being told to drop out of school.”

**

It was another five years before she saw Izaya again.

There were many things beyond high school, she realized. Although Izaya had seemed so grown up and versed in the real world when they’d been teenagers, only in retrospect could she see his gross immaturity. And her own, of course.

She thought back to the incident with less and less frequency. This was how she understood it now: Izaya had ignored her feelings, so she had retaliated with a stupid sexual assault, and he had then retaliated by destroying her life. But the life one sees when one is 17 is far different than the one seen at 22.

One evening after work at the dojo, she went to the bar she and Izaya had frequented as teenagers. She didn’t even bother putting on anything presentable. She’d long ago come to terms with herself as a perpetual tomboy and to dress in anything other than gym clothes felt disingenuous. Izaya had given her a bias against feminine clothes if nothing else.

The place was the same as it had always been. Small, full of young people. Rather plain in its décor, and lit with that dim luminescence that drinking establishments have. She sat at a stool at the bar and ordered a whiskey. It was smooth and warm and she got lost in reflection.

“You look like you’re trying to get laid,” said someone who sidled into the seat next to her.

That fur on that femme-y looking black coat looked both ridiculous and seductive, but it was the voice that really caught her attention.

“Izaya,” she acknowledged.

“I’ll have a whiskey too,” he smiled at the bartender.

They drank in amiable silence for a while.

“You come here often?” Mikage asked.

“No, I instructed the bartender to call me if you ever came,” Izaya said. He took a sip of his whiskey. “You can believe that or not, as you will.”

Mikage didn’t need to say she believed it. They both knew it was true.

“I’ve got a job for you,” Izaya said. “It pays better than the dojo but you won’t have to give up your hours there. My sisters enjoy your instruction, after all.”

“What is it?” Mikage asked. “And your sisters are good students.”

“Bodyguard,” Izaya replied. “And no need to be kind, they’re little shits.”

“They’ve got a knack for martial arts,” said Mikage. “Like their brother.”

“Are you interested?” Izaya pressed.

It was unusual for Izaya to be so direct about anything, so Mikage took note that he must be desperate, or at least want to appear to be.

“Do you think that’s my type?” She said. “Desperate guys.”

“I think _I’m_ still your type,” Izaya answered truthfully.

Mikage snorted. “You were never my type because you weren’t anything. Just a lie.”

Izaya laughed. “That’s why I like you, Mikage. You’re so direct and honest.”

“What’s the pay and hours?” Mikage asked.

Izaya proceeded to tell her the details. It was only on a contract basis, no regular hours. He’d contact her when he needed her services. The pay was good. Mikage agreed.

“Why now?” she finally asked.

“I have a feeling things are about to get a little interesting in Ikebukuro,” Izaya smiled.

“It’ll be your fault if they do,” Mikage said.

Izaya laughed at that.

He set down money, only enough for his own drink, and pulled his coat tight around him as he made to leave. While he was waiting for change, Mikage pulled some bills from her own wallet.

“There’s a love hotel nearby,” Mikage said, resolutely staring at the wall of glittering booze bottles and not at whatever Izaya’s reaction was.

“I would but…you should know that I’ve decided to be gay,” Izaya said, mock wistfulness in his voice.

“I’ve gotten pretty good with strap-ons,” Mikage said, pocketing her change.

“I’m sleeping with Shizu-chan,” Izaya protested.

“Everyone knows that,” Mikage said.

“And everyone knows that you’re a lesbian,” Izaya said, stepping on the edge of potentially very fragile territory.

“Only when I feel like it,” Mikage answered, setting aside any lingering bad blood.

Izaya sighed. “We’re business partners now. It would be unethical.”

“Since when has anything you’ve done been ethical,” Mikage said.

“I am perfectly ethical in every way,” Izaya lied.

Once they were outside the bar, he leaned in for a kiss. It was unexpectedly direct and passionate and Mikage was aroused all too easily. Her hand wound into Izaya’s short, scruffy hair. He let himself be embraced by her strong, sure arms.

“I appreciate a good chase and a hard fuck,” he said directly into her ear. “Don’t disappoint me.”

She grabbed Izaya’s chin. “You can have the hard fuck. But I’m done chasing you.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. Just this once, then? I think we’ve both earned it but have too much else going on in our lives now to jeopardize everything by turning this into a thing.” He started walking towards a destination that loomed large in her memory.

Mikage nodded, following Izaya for what she decided was the last time.

**

In the end they chose a different hotel.

Once inside the room, they kissed passionately. The whiskey did little to disguise the flavor of Izaya’s mouth, which tasted better and more human than she ever would have believed from a creature of smoke and mirrors like him. Their embrace was messy, bodies pressed needily against each other and hands sliding all over. Izaya raked his fingernails across her rock-hard abdomen, unable to stop touching the hardest parts of her. On Mikage’s end, she handily disrobed him of his stupid coat and rather attractive V-neck and tweaked those nipples she’d been thinking about for five years.

Then something changed. The pent-up passion evaporated, leaving a more mature, abiding affection. A space of real intimacy, the last thing Mikage would have expected, opened up.

“I’ve longed to try this,” Izaya said. “To taste a woman on my knees.” He knelt on the floor and pressed his mouth against her gym shorts. He mouthed her hot mound, working lower to search for her clit with his tongue until he found it and applied pressure. A rush of fluid dampened Mikage’s panties in response.

Izaya moaned in appreciation, the vibrations sending pleasurable shocks through her groin. She canted her hips forward, forcing her partner to take more of her cunt into his mouth. He moaned again, face messy with his own saliva and her fluids.

His hands wrapped around her muscular thighs, and in return she nudged her foot in between his legs and gave him something to rub his rapidly hardening cock against.

Mikage would have been content to let him suck her off, and she was getting close to a buzzy state leading to orgasm, but she had her own fantasies begging to be made real. Kneeling down herself, she unzipped his pants. He gasped and fisted his hands in her jacket. She lifted him up, causing another gasp, and sat him on the bed. Then she pulled his pants down and stared at the outline of his erection in his silky black men’s underwear.

“On your back,” she commanded, and tipped Izaya back onto the bed.

Then she took off her own soaked gym shorts and ground raw against his clothed cock.

They both moaned at the surprising and pleasurable friction. For a while they could focus on nothing but her slick cunt riding on the trapped stiff shaft. But as surges of arousal shot through both their bodies, their motions grew more heated and frantic. Their mouths smashed together with desire. Izaya’s hands found fistfuls of Mikage’s generous chest and prodded her hard sensitive nipples. In response, Mikage found herself trying to take Izaya’s cock despite the confines of its clothing.

“My pocket…” Izaya stuttered out. “I always carry…”

Mikage dismounted enough to rifle through Izaya’s coat pockets where she found a switchblade, several phones and a couple condoms. Truthfully she was most surprised about the condoms, but grateful. They didn’t need to make things more complicated between them than they already were.

Izaya ruefully removed his underwear, which were just as ruined as hers, before sitting up, legs splayed out in front of him. She seated herself on his thighs, tearing at the condom packet. The white disc emerged and she placed it on the sensitive head of his cock. He let out a broken moan as she rolled it all the way down to the base.

“I’m not used to feeling them on this part of me,” he laughed.

“This is the part they’re supposed to go on,” Mikage said.

“Deliberately ignoring my meaning, hmm?” Izaya grinned. “Your fantasy of me as the cliché ladykiller always was endearing.”

Mikage rolled her eyes and positioned herself over his cock. She had no idea what to expect from penetration. It couldn’t be any different than various other tools or body parts that had been inside of her, but this was a real cock and more important, this was Izaya.

He leaned in and pressed his hands all over her hard abdomen again. “Let me touch you. It’ll go in easier the harder I am,” he said. “And your body turns me on.”

After letting his tongue licked over her breast and he fondled her, Mikage slid down his cock with a moan.

They both hummed in pleasure, temporarily overwhelmed by the sensation. Izaya latched onto her nipple and sucked as she started working his cock. Lewd wet noises filled the room.

It was good. It was really good. Mikage leaned back to change the angle of penetration and with her strength it was easy to slide down his cock precisely as much and as far as she wanted. She focused solely on that. It seemed to work well enough for Izaya, with the way he was panting and touching her body aimlessly for more sensation as his cock sent waves of pleasure through his body.

Mikage shuddered around him, climaxing from the incredible sensation. Izaya felt that too and moaned.

“Right there,” he said, as she continued to work his cock, feeling another orgasm rolling in.

This time she came much harder, clenching around Izaya’s cock and whiting out. When she came to, she found she’d fallen off his cock and was leaking her come on his thighs.

“That was incredibly hot,” Izaya commented.

Mikage didn’t know what to say. Her mind was blank and her body numb. But she did know one thing: that it was Izaya’s turn to come. She pulled him on top of her and guided his hard dick to her overheated pussy.

“Your turn,” she said.

“I’m a bit out of practice,” he said.

“Thought you were a prodigy,” she said. She angled her hips up while he guided his cock down. He slid in easily, and Mikage consciously flexed to make her channel tighter for him.

It was a little boring doing it this way, Mikage summarized, but Izaya was into it enough so she laid back and guided as much of the action as possible with her hips. Izaya sped up, and the friction was good. Good enough to get her off again, and for Izaya to tumble into bliss on top of her. The face he made when he got lost in pleasure was unguarded and beautiful and everything she never thought he was.

They lay body-to-body for a while, sweat mingling and then becoming tacky, and then becoming uncomfortable.

Izaya sat up and peeled off the condom. He tied off the end and brandished it between two fingers.

“Would you like to keep it as a souvenir? Because I don’t think this’ll be happening again,” Izaya said.

Mikage smashed his face with a pillow.

She felt sated.

As she lay naked in bed while Izaya showered, she contemplated a few things. When she concluded it was with a single realization: No one could ever make her feel like a woman the way Izaya did.

And she’d be perfectly happy to keep it that way.


End file.
